The Life: Sacrifice (The Life 3)

“And?” I wonder if that one word sounded as strained with anger to her as it did to my own ears.

“And we left, just left him there to die. I went back once we’d all gone back to our homes, swearing each other to secrecy about the party and the beating since one might lead to the other, and they’d be found out. He was still alive but barely when I got there. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I knew I had to get him out of there and away from the village.”

“My family used to go to a place not far from here, about an hour’s drive. When I was a child, we spent most summers there at what used to be my ancestral home. It was the only place I could think of. It’s far enough away from our village, and no one would think to look for him there, especially since they were all convinced he was dead.”

“Where is he?”

“I can give you the instructions, ah, directions to the place. It’s…” I was on my feet and ready to move.

“Give them to me.”

“Of course.” She hurried back into the convent while I stood there wondering if this was real. I mean, I’d hoped, wished, even prayed, but I don’t think I really expected things to really turn out like this. It was almost too easy.

She came back not ten minutes later with a look of relief on her face as if a burden had been lifted. “What now? Will you be taking him away with you? I know from your accent that you’re from America, is that where your mother went when she disappeared from the village all those years ago?” I took the piece of paper with the directions from her hand and bit back my first retort. She’d just helped me out tremendously, after all. Fuck that!

“You don’t get to ask about her. As to what happens next, say mass every day and hope that this is the last time you ever see my face. Thanks for saving my grandfather.” That was all I had for her, so I just turned and walked away. I turned off the recorder in my pocket just before I came up on the others milling around in the courtyard.

I didn’t speak to anyone as I headed back to the car. I gave the driver the instructions, and he nodded as if he knew where we were headed, so that was a relief. I wish I had wings. I would’ve taken the plane, but who has time for flight plans at a time like this? Besides, I doubt from her description that there’s a landing strip nearby.

Everyone was relatively silent, though the others spoke softly amongst themselves every once in a while, while I looked out the window seeing nothing. I think I was holding my breath all the way there, expecting I don’t know what. But the biggest obstacle to putting my plans in motion to take Ricci down was about to be removed.

Until I knew where he was and what had happened to him, I couldn’t make a move for Ma’s sake. I needed to find him for her, make sure at the very least that he was okay and, barring that, that he’d been given a proper burial. You see, in the back of my mind, I always knew Ricci had had a hand in his disappearance.

The drive seemed twice as long, though, by my watch, we’d actually made good time. Another long winding driveway led us to what must’ve once been a beautiful palazzo. The stone had been weathered by the elements, its once yellow hue now washed out and faded, though the structure still stood tall.

It looked deserted, but it was obvious someone was taking care of the place because the grounds looked well-kept. A man came around from the back of the property alerted by the car engine, and I knew from the rush of excitement in my gut that it was him. I took him in from head to toe and fought back the tears that started to form.

He had a limp, but other than that, he seemed solid. “Ciao…” He started the greeting in a heavy thick accent as he walked towards me, then stopped, and for the second time that day, I saw a look of horror and distaste on someone else’s face at the sight of me.

“You…” The old man actually made a rush towards me but stopped short in front of me, mere steps from my face. “Who are you? You’re not him.” He seemed confused, and my heart squeezed.

“No, I’m not him. I’m Sofia’s son. I’m Gabriel, your grandson.” He wordlessly mouthed my mother’s name and swayed like an aspen in the wind.

“Sofie…Sofia, you’re….” I had to move forward quickly and hold him up when he started to fall, his hand grabbing at his chest. Why didn’t I think of this? I should’ve given his age. He held onto me, staring into my face with tears streaming down his cheeks, his mouth forming words, but no sound made it past his lips.